


It's A New Song (And We'll Sing It All The Same)

by DivineNoodles



Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Chisato Shirasagi Needs a Hug, F/F, Musicals, Song Lyrics, Tragedy... or is it?, not an au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23499265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineNoodles/pseuds/DivineNoodles
Summary: Kaoru and Chisato put on Hadestown. You know how it ends... or do you?
Relationships: Seta Kaoru/Shirasagi Chisato
Comments: 21
Kudos: 56





	It's A New Song (And We'll Sing It All The Same)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Chisato's bday! It's stylistically funky but everything should make sense by the end. Big giganto thanks to both silversilky and Sekundi for beta-reading!

It’s an old song. You’ve heard it before.

The story of Orpheus and Eurydice: a tragedy that dates back thousands of years, a tale of love, loss, and doubts, wherein the poet Orpheus ventured into the underworld to bring his wife Eurydice back from the dead. Upon reaching the throne of Hades, Orpheus played his lyre so charmingly that the god of death allowed him to take his wife back—on the condition that he not turn to look and see if she was following behind, because if he did then she would be trapped in the underworld forever. One could guess how it went—it was a Greek tragedy, after all. Among the most famous of them all. Told time and time again, in various shapes, forms, and incarnations.

A story so old that Eurydice herself knew it.

Then again, she hadn’t exactly been Eurydice for long—only a little over a week, and it was her last night as such. Technically speaking she’d been Eurydice for more around two months, just so she could flawlessly brandish that name for this short stint of time. And what a pleasant name it was— “like a melody” indeed. But it was also one tinged with more regrets than could be put to words: a cynicism born of hunger and betrayal, scorned by the world and forsaken by all she’d ever known.

In that sense, she might have been Eurydice her entire life.

Waiting for the one who’d come to take her home.

And the inevitable tragedy that would follow.

But for the moment, she shouldn’t think about that. She should focus on her job: wrapping herself up in her wintry gray coat, scouring for food and warmth and shelter in a world where the seasons were off-kilter, displaying what a miserable and isolated life this reality was. She tosses her blonde hair about—stained with the perfect amount of glamorous dirt—as she bundles up, shivering with invisible foggy breath. Waiting for four words to soar into her eardrums:

“Come home with me.”

She turns, and there stands a most familiar guest. “Who are you?”

“The man who’s gonna marry you.” A strum of the guitar, and a paper flower is proffered. “I’m Orpheus.”

A man, so she said – but Eurydice knew her Orpheus to be a woman. Prostrating herself upon one knee, exuding a shine that far outgleams her ratty suspenders and scruffy bandana… even her purple ponytail is far crisper than it has any right to be. A sap, if there ever was one. Eurydice looks over to Orpheus’s companion—a bespectacled, brown-haired Hermes—who shrugs it off, as if saying ‘ah, well… you know her’.

And Eurydice does. It’s a familiar Orpheus. After all, they both how this song goes.

And oh, what a song Orpheus can sing. Light and airy, like the wind off a dandelion, tickling the shoulders and stroking the cheeks… when she lilts the world gets brighter and the greens bloom, and Eurydice can imagine what it must look like… the warmth, the flowers, the sun. How many times has her heart dreamed of such a life, away from the cold and seclusion? How many times has she let her icy, distant heart be thawed by her song? She really should know better by now.

But when Persephone comes (with that red streak in her hair) bearing the gift of spring, and Orpheus hails her for her kind generosity, and the people above cheer for the fresh fields and fair weather… Eurydice falls all over again. Even as she knows what will happen.

That’s what makes it a tragedy, isn’t it?

And yet, Eurydice cannot help but croon to herself.

#####  _You take me in your arms_

#####  _And suddenly there's sunlight all around me_

#####  _Everything bright and warm_

#####  _And shining like it never did before_

#####  _And for a moment I forget_

#####  _Just how dark and cold it gets_

#####  _All I've ever known is how to hold my own_

#####  _All I've ever known is how to hold my own_

#####  _But now I wanna hold you_

#####  _Now I wanna hold you, hold you close_

#####  _I don't wanna ever have to let you go_

#####  _Now I wanna hold you, hold you tight_

#####  _I don't wanna go back to the lonely life_

And Orpheus sings just as clearly.

#####  _I don't know how or why_

#####  _Or who am I that I should get to hold you_

#####  _But when I saw you all alone against the sky_

#####  _It's like I’d known you all along_

#####  _I knew you before we met_

#####  _And I don’t even know you yet_

#####  _All I know is you're someone I have always known_

And together, they harmonize.

#####  _All I know is you’re someone I have always known_  
 _And I don't even know you_

Perhaps not even they understood the layers of their words.

The image of young Orpheus was still fresh in Eurydice’s mind. Back then there was no elegant guitar refrains or fawning melodies… just a meek little girl stuck to her coattails and bawling her eyes out. Who would have thought she would grow up into such a charmer? Not that Eurydice was fooled—she still saw the same timidity flash through Orpheus’s eyes every now and then, the same spirit that shrunk with sensitivity and humility upon the mere drop of her other name. Just as she saw the same resolute compassion in all her actions. If only she could have recognized it sooner.

Not that it would have changed her fate.

After all, the train whistle sounded at the same time as always. The King of Death, in her well-fitted suit and sunken posture, smelling of oil (and fresh-baked bread), stepped into town and promised safety, security, and shelter in his paradisiacal necropolis.

Orpheus sang on and on of warmth and ideals, but here was one who could offer Eurydice what she really needed—the comfort of stability. Who wouldn’t be tempted by such an enticing vision? A world under the ground, where all her lavish dreams could come true so long as she worked hard enough?

Aye, Eurydice would naturally step on the train to the underworld.

…but would “Eurydice”?

She never had a say in the matter.

After all, she’d been shipped there when she was but a child.

To grow up in such a glamorous catacomb, where dolled-up corpses shambled about under the pretenses of dreams and success… she’d always known the iron gaze of death that lurked above. It wasn’t one that bore down on her with steel-toed boots or iron fists… no, it was far too courteous for such merciful candor. It was one that dealt in cut contracts and gutted images, throwing out workers for lack of fame, beauty, or talent. Fail to conform, and you were tossed out like everybody else. Humanity was disposable in the face of avarice.

Such was her bleak, cruel reality. The only one she’d ever known. But it wasn’t as if she could escape. Could the dead ever claw their way back to life?

No. The trains there were a one-way ticket.

So she resigned herself to her drone work. Meeting the expectations of her station, not paying an ounce of attention to her own well-being. Every time she searched for a reason why she was stuck here she was met with her own shrug of fatalism. It happened. She had no say in it. She never had a say. All she could hope was to palm the other workers there a loaf or two needed to survive, teach them how to hide from the all-seeing eyes of the foremen, figure out a way to make those she knew above ground happy and healthy. But she could never hope for herself.

Because hope is the kindest cruelty.

Poisoning you with dreams of things that could never happen. Turning your mind from duties and towards idyllic nothings. Making you see the world with rose-tinted glasses and absolving yourself of any sensibility. She wasn’t one for despair, for it proved just as unproductive—but she would sooner drain her mind of all faculty than allow the toxic seed of Pollyannaish optimism to take root in her heart.

So she consigned herself to this life. This death.

Will was meaningless. She could bend the machine back, but never break it. What was the point in telling herself she had a chance? She knew how the story would end. So all the better to keep her head low and push forward, thinking of the one she’d left behind, hoping that she, at least, had found peace.

…

…Why?

Why did Orpheus follow her to the underworld?

When Eurydice first found her again, so metamorphosed and unrecognizable, she felt nothing but anger. Anger at one who would cast away her life just to slink away in this misery. Anger at one foolish enough to believe they could fight a system ingrained like poison ivy into all their veins. Anger at herself for unknowingly lulling the person she cared most for in this world into its most fetid and debase pit to rot. How could she have let it happen? It’s something she should have long let go. But it remains her greatest regret.

So now when she, as Eurydice, knows that Orpheus will come again for her… her heart aches in anticipation, for destiny will soon take its cruel course once more.

Yet when she hears those four words…

“Come home with me.”

Her soul blossoms.

With that contemptibly toxic seed.

Because now she knows that Orpheus is no fool. No… perhaps she is the greatest fool of all. Only such a fool could sing a song so saccharine and sincere that it would raise the deadened spirits of the underground—a song so filled with adoration that her own jaded heart hastens to believe it, if only for a moment. But Orpheus’s melody is not one tainted purely by sugar and honey; it is one that recognizes the bleakness before it, and laments what has become of the world.

So when Orpheus sings before Hades, to remind her of her love with Persephone, she sounds like no jester with a lyre, but a daughter of Apollo, here to weave a song so sweet that Death herself cannot help but fawn over it. And for a moment, the person beneath Eurydice’s name stops and listens to the lyrics:

#####  _And what has become of the heart of that man_

#####  _Now that the man is king?_

#####  _What has become of the heart of that man_

#####  _Now that he has everything?_

#####  _The more he has, the more he holds_

#####  _The greater the weight of the world on his shoulders_

#####  _See how he labors beneath that load_

#####  _Afraid to look up, and afraid to let go_

#####  _So he keeps his head low, he keeps his back bending_

#####  _He's grown so afraid that he'll lose what he owns_

#####  _But what he doesn't know is that what he's defending_

#####  _Is already gone_

And remembers all that she has lost.

And all she will lose again.

Because that was the purpose of her tragedy. To imbibe oneself of hope: for a better life, a happy ending, a world greater than the one they inhabited. The same hope that will bear the fruit of cathartic pain, once reality is laid barren for all to see.

For Hades sets the condition. To prey upon doubt, and state that Orpheus cannot turn to see if Eurydice is following behind as they return to the surface—for if she does, then the underworld would swallow her once and for all.

How many times has Eurydice followed anyway, knowing what’s to come?

It’s her role, after all. It’s what she has to do.

For her, at least, this will be the last time. The last time she has to stare into Orpheus’s wide, regretful eyes as she feels her own body sink below the ground. The last time she has to feel the ropes of her arteries strangle her heart. After this, she can let Eurydice lie in the earth, still and at peace, as she’s meant to be.

The road out of hell is dark and damp. Obfuscated and inscrutable. Eurydice can make out the figure before her plunging into the darkness, guitar slung over shoulder as doubts are vocalized in song, accompanied by Fates with hair of pink, white, and teal:

#####  _Who am I? (Doubt comes in)_

#####  _Where do I think I'm goin'?_

#####  _Who am I? (Doubt comes in)_

#####  _Why am I all alone?_

#####  _Who do I think I am? (Doubt comes in)_

#####  _Who am I to think that she would follow me into the cold and dark again?_

Eurydice calls out to her, in attempted reassurance. Regret stokes her heart. The only reason Orpheus—gentle, idyllic Orpheus—fears is because she ran away. No, not just that… Eurydice spurned her. Considered her a falsity; a pompous braggart obscuring her true self. If only she had believed from the beginning. Allowed herself the comfort of faith. Then, perhaps, what follows would not be destiny.

This tragedy is of her own doing.

#####  _Is this a trap that's bein' laid for me? (Doubt comes in / the wind is changing)_

#####  _Is this a trick that's bein' played on me?(Doubt comes in / how cold it’s blowing)_

#####  _I used to see the way the world could be (Doubt comes in and meets a stranger)_

#####  _But now the way it is is all I see and (walking on the road below)_

#####  **_Where is she?_ **

#####  **_Where is she now?_ **

Idealism would give way to cold, hard truth. Until the last moment the audience would want to believe, yearn to see the ending in which the two escaped to happy lives… but such a fantasy would be snatched from them every time. Such a thing is necessary. To remind people of such high hopes, if only for a moment…

Which is why Eurydice doesn’t mind her fate.

#####  _Orpheus_

She’s long accepted the way things will be.

#####  _You are not alone_

Orpheus will always doubt; always question.

#####  _I am right behind you_

Because that’s what Eurydice had done to her.

#####  _And I have been all along_

So she waits.

#####  _The darkest hour_

For the discordant strings to mark her demise.

#####  _Of the darkest night_

For her fall.

#####  _Comes right before the—_

Still.

Everything is still.

At the moment when Orpheus is to turn around, with those all-too human fears quaking in her eyes, accented by the heartrending tear of violins…

She looks forward.

Eurydice’s last word hangs in the air, in the midst of silence.

She feels nothing but the confused palpitations of her own heart.

And then, Orpheus speaks.

“Are you there, my love?”

The voice… no longer sounds quite as Orpheus should.

“I’m sure you are. But even now, every last fiber of my being pleads to turn around.”

Yes, of course they do. Because that’s her role. What is she doing?

“But…” Orpheus’s head tilts slightly upward, staring at a nonexistent sun. “I’ve listened to this song before. And I…”

Eurydice can hear the smirk in her voice.

“I’ve grown tired of hearing it.”

From the darkness, a piano chord strikes out.

Tinkling. Trickling. Soft and melodic—meant to be a sorrowful afternote, the accent to the tragedy. But now it sounds… curious. Uncertain.

It makes Eurydice’s spirit boil.

But she can’t show it. “O-Orpheus… whatever do you mean?”

Her love does not respond. Instead, from the shadows, steps the narrator of their tale: Hermes, wearing an uncharacteristic smile. She speak-sings softly:

“It’s an old song.

“A tale of love from way back when.

“It’s an old song…

“And this is not how it’s supposed to end.”

Orpheus, still facing forward, hoists her guitar and begins to strum.

The Greek choir begins to harmonize.

And something stirs within Eurydice.

“You see, sisters, tales like this are as old as time,” Hermes continues. “Older than rhythm or rhyme. But while we sing them again and again… we also want to hear something new now and then.”

The Fates thrum to the chords of the guitar. Orpheus croons.

#####  _My heart was filled with doubt so pure,_

#####  _That I never felt so unsure._

#####  _But then I remembered someone I once knew_

#####  _Who to herself was always true._

#####  _She would never turn her back on me_

#####  _Even if she could now not see_

#####  _The sort of woman I had become_

#####  _Or the land of green we once came from_

Workers hum to her song of the world.

Hades and Persephone join in from afar.

Eurydice feels her fist involuntarily clench.

But Orpheus continues.

#####  _A tragedy, we often sing_

#####  _For no one in life can have everything_

#####  _But what’s the harm in a happy end_

#####  _Where hearts do sing, and love does mend?_

#####  _For you and I, I want nothing more_

#####  _Than for us to leave this place before_

#####  _Your heart is sewn up into stone_

#####  _And left in darkness, all alone._

She could see it.

She could hear it.

She could feel it, like a train.

The way the world could be, in spite of the way that it is.

Rising with the chorus the spiraled all around her.

That kind, kind cruelty, swelling through every cell in her body, clashing with the song as she knows it in her heart, as a fresh melody soars through her ears.

#####  _It’s a new song (it’s a new song)_

#####  _It’s a tale of love, a brand new flame_

#####  _It’s a new song (new song)_

#####  _And we’re gonna sing it all the same_

It flies out over the audience, enveloping them in an uncertainty – and a freshness – that lifts up the soul.

#####  _It’s a love song (it’s a love song)_

#####  _A tale of love with a brand new start_

#####  _It’s a new song (new song)_

#####  _And we’ll sing it with all our heart_

#####  _Sing it with all our heart…_

The notes dampen

and quiet

and fade

until there is only Orpheus, the last notes of her instrument ringing through the hall.

She steps away from the dim stage, and into the darkened wings,

never once turning around.

Eurydice follows with a smile as the lights turn to black.

It’s coursing through every drop of blood. This feeling. This sensation. It sings and cries and screams in her ears, driving her forward.

Rage.

She storms past her ‘love’ and into the idle green room, falling into her chair with an irate grimace. It’s taking every last ounce of willpower not to shriek in indignation at the farce she was just unwittingly cajoled into—a perversion of meaning and resolution, borne of a fool’s jejune understanding of what the play was supposed to represent. What did she think this ending would do?! Would the audience take such a maudlin message to mean anything at all?! And to coax the rest of the production staff ahead of time so that they’d all be in on it… the sheer hubris of it all!

She faces her reflection in the mirror, almost disgusted by the contempt bleeding through her every pore. On stage she’d been able to grin and bear it through her emotional distress, but now that she’s had a moment to think she’s unable to mask herself any longer. She wants to take one of the makeup bottles on the table and hurl it at the glass just so she doesn’t have to look at her own disdain.

Why?

Why is she so upset?

She understands the reason. She tells it to herself, over and over again. It’s the only rational result. But she knows who the play was changed for—and the knowledge of that fact tears her right in two.

A knock at the door.

Eurydice’s fingernails dig into the grain of the vanity. She somehow knows exactly who it is. Only one person would dare have the courteous gall to knock in a situation like this.

She hears the door creak open behind her. In the mirror’s reflection the fringes of Orpheus’s torso come into view until she stops a good meter away. Not preening or apologetic. Simply… present.

“…What do you want?” Eurydice spits.

Orpheus does not reply.

Fury wells up within Eurydice once more. The nice, cowardly thing to do would be to leave her alone to stew in her emotions. The doting, self-absorbed action would be to embrace her without question or reflection in hopes of affection healing the divide. But Orpheus just… stands there. Here to listen, and not to justify. Eurydice feels herself breathe in and out for several moments before speaking.

“…You ruined the play.”

“Undoubtedly,” Orpheus replies without hesitation.

“Your mawkish ad-lib undercut every point of a tragedy.”

“Indeed.”

“What you did…” Eurydice nearly bites her lip off in frustration. “What you did is something that Orpheus would never do.”

“Naturally. His entire being is defined by his singular, all-encompassing moment of doubt. But… that is where you make your error.”

“And what error is that?!” asks Eurydice, whipping her head with indignation—

To meet the soft, gentle gaze of a stranger she’s known all her life.

“I am not Orpheus,” says Kaoru Seta.

Chisato Shirasagi stares at her, every emotion spilling over internally until she’s overwhelmed.

She rises from her seat, stalks over, and raises an open palm high into the air.

Kaoru stands unflinching, ready to receive whatever she will offer.

Fingers curl into a tight ball.

An arm drops to head level.

_whump_

And Chisato pounds lightly at Kaoru’s chest, shuddering with every breath.

Kaoru’s arms wrap around her loosely, as if embracing a doll so delicate it would shatter at the touch. Her face is filled with a thousand somber regrets. “…I am sorry. If I had known my actions would hurt you so… I never would have done what I did.”

Hurt her? No… Chisato was the only one here to blame for her own wounds. All Kaoru had done was—

“I simply wished to give you hope,” she continues. “I know that no simple show of love can save you from the underworld. Your fight is far too grueling for that.”

Chisato’s heaves are accented with choked sobs.

“But—” Kaoru smiles, as gentle as a lily. “—I will never turn my back on you. That is my one, unending vow.”

“How?”

Chisato spits it out without even thinking.

“How do you know you’ll keep that promise?”

Kaoru holds her closer. “Because… I know that old song. I’ve heard it again and again. And because I have… I’ve learned from it. I know you’ll always be right behind.”

Chisato’s legs feel like clay as Kaoru tenderly releases her, quivering with all their strength in an attempt to stay standing. With a small sigh, Kaoru’s head cranes towards the green room door.

“They’re undoubtedly concerned out there…” Kaoru rights her outfit and readjusts her hair. “I’ll speak with them. Take as much time as you need.”

Chisato cannot reply.

Kaoru walks towards the exit and twists the handle, putting one foot out the door before stopping. “Chisato…”

She hunches up, arms crossed as her head tilts towards the floor—but she can’t help but flick her eyes up at the resolute back of the woman before her.

“Tragedies are necessary in this world,” Kaoru finally says. “And I will tell them without reservation, time and again. But they belong in song and memory… not in your life.”

Chisato’s head is devoid of thought.

“Whether or not you follow is your own decision. I cannot make you believe in me now.” Kaoru nods. “But I know for certain that I believe in myself. And that is only because you believed in me back then... Chii-chan.”

And with that, she fades into the shadows.

Chisato collapses back into her seat, able to let her tears run free now that she’s in private. She shakes and sniffles and curls up, leaning forward on her elbows, soaking in her emotions.

Tragedy.

Her life had been destined for it due to events out of her control.

This was just another event in a string of misfortunes… wasn’t it?

…

…

She looks in the mirror.

It’s not Eurydice who stares back at her.

It’s an old song.

A tale of love from way back when.

An old, old song.

But was it her own to sing?

She takes a minute to gather herself. Squeeze her eyes dry. Wipe her face clean.

Then she stands up and turns back towards the door.

She can see the road ahead of her. It’s dark, and stormy, and perilous. One misstep and she would fall into the deepest circle for all time. But if she didn’t take any steps at all… then she’d simply be one of the shades herself.

She cannot believe in something as fragile as hope.

But Kaoru could.

Chisato isn’t sure which one of them is the fool.

But she knows what she wishes for.

She walks forward, opens the door, and plunges back into darkness, whispering a silent prayer:

_Wait for me, Kao-chan._

_I’m coming._

**Author's Note:**

> Much like Kaoru, I very much love and understand the message of Hadestown: I have simply chosen to ignore it in favor of a different one.
> 
> Here's my full cast list:
> 
> Orpheus - Kaoru  
> Eurydice - Chisato  
> Hermes - Maya  
> Hades - Moca  
> Persephone - Ran  
> Fates - Aya, Hina, and Eve  
> Workers and Swings: Everybody Else?  
> Rinko and Ako are definitely playing piano and drums in the pit though
> 
> I put an absurd amount of thought as to how this production of Hadestown would go down behind the scenes but didn't have room for it in the fic; feel free to ask me questions about it elsewhere:
> 
> Twitter: [@DivineNoodles](https://twitter.com/DivineNoodles)  
> CuriousCat: [DivineNoodles](https://curiouscat.me/DivineNoodles)


End file.
